About growing up, and relationships in a troubled family...
My mother told me too clean behind my ears because that's where the dirt collects.
Behind ears unwashed; You can't hear too well if they are dripping wax
Candles drip wax on waiting flesh...orgasmic, orgasms...Mother never mentioned these, was she trying to keep them for herself? She did scream a lot...I never heard her scream...from love.
Don't know if the forest is still there beneath her watching eye...its too dark
without the moon to guide me, and her limbs are falling from trees branches
and they cannot reach me anymore...and they cannot touch me anymore...they have no purpose.
Its a tree without reason...it changes with the seasons, years older withered, with no more shade cast but yet I sit with it, hoping it can protect me as it has in the past...
Last year was a tough year for her...she was told that she had only one life
to live, this life...
She used to give more, but too much giving can weigh heavy on a soul.
As she grows old...before my eyes, I realize that I'm not a kid anymore, although I still feel 7 on the inside and I remember that day, when I was bouncing on my bed....and I said, "I want to be 7 forever"...I got my wish
...Too bad the world couldn't stay with me...it grew, as did hair in places, and wrinkles on faces that I never intended to know, and they are important to me now, some how...
Maybe I'm not 7 after all, maybe I'm not even born yet, ...maybe these thoughts are dreams as I still lay fetal and I'm kicking furiously, hurting her, just wanting to get out...but its so comforting here inside...Inside a 70's Buick...and she saved me from falling..Her limbs were a lot stronger then, I should have let go, but I'm still holding on, thanking her for this life.
She saved me, and gave me everything...her blood, her words...her love.
Her love was a lot more evident, we didn't have to repent for the things we did, me and my brother, holding mothers hands as we rushed from house and home...alone, running, chasing dreams only to catch nightmares.
Sitting alone upstairs, urinating in garbage cans, hands filthy as we went to school, unslept, and unkempt...Never realized how tortured we were...until
this moment, when I see it written in black and white...she kicked back to fight for us, hope her next life is more fulfilling...this one is killing her slowly, in fact she died the moment we were born...
Flowers still blossom on this very street, as nature completes its cycle without hesitation.
A new relation ships new life into her hands, babies of babies growing faster than the maybes of this life, just maybe she is happy now...its the 7 yr old that wants to see her smile and she does. If only for the moment, then lightning swells frightening the child that dwells within...
As she begins again, and I begin again, this time, I wait patiently for winter to come, and the son is cold,...as I look and see her...and she is old, and I am old...
He scolds her for her natures wrath, and takes babies from her withered hands, and with her, he stands...hopefully they can get along now, the son and moon, as has always been, and will always be...from July 'til June...a family, this family.
This soil is in turmoil and the buds grow thick with weakened stems, and it stems from what is at its root...and it drinks...as did he, many years ago, but he has changed...and he is loved, while the relation shifts from her to him...Is there not enough to go around? I think so, but what do I know I am only 7...I'm naive, I believe in true happiness and happy endings...as all things end as they begin. I am forced to wonder...and dream, of the if we, and if she...but there is only one ending to every story and time is her narrator, telling us when its time to quit...I think its time, as I sit and stare at her...she is young now, as am I...and love has no direction, or weakness...its as strong now as it has ever been, even if things appear more fragile, its her strength that will go on forever.
Poetry by TheNakedPoet
Read 185 times
Written on 2007-01-03 at 18:25
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A Mothers Nature
A mothers nature is to nurture...and she protects,My mother told me too clean behind my ears because that's where the dirt collects.
Behind ears unwashed; You can't hear too well if they are dripping wax
Candles drip wax on waiting flesh...orgasmic, orgasms...Mother never mentioned these, was she trying to keep them for herself? She did scream a lot...I never heard her scream...from love.
Don't know if the forest is still there beneath her watching eye...its too dark
without the moon to guide me, and her limbs are falling from trees branches
and they cannot reach me anymore...and they cannot touch me anymore...they have no purpose.
Its a tree without reason...it changes with the seasons, years older withered, with no more shade cast but yet I sit with it, hoping it can protect me as it has in the past...
Last year was a tough year for her...she was told that she had only one life
to live, this life...
She used to give more, but too much giving can weigh heavy on a soul.
As she grows old...before my eyes, I realize that I'm not a kid anymore, although I still feel 7 on the inside and I remember that day, when I was bouncing on my bed....and I said, "I want to be 7 forever"...I got my wish
...Too bad the world couldn't stay with me...it grew, as did hair in places, and wrinkles on faces that I never intended to know, and they are important to me now, some how...
Maybe I'm not 7 after all, maybe I'm not even born yet, ...maybe these thoughts are dreams as I still lay fetal and I'm kicking furiously, hurting her, just wanting to get out...but its so comforting here inside...Inside a 70's Buick...and she saved me from falling..Her limbs were a lot stronger then, I should have let go, but I'm still holding on, thanking her for this life.
She saved me, and gave me everything...her blood, her words...her love.
Her love was a lot more evident, we didn't have to repent for the things we did, me and my brother, holding mothers hands as we rushed from house and home...alone, running, chasing dreams only to catch nightmares.
Sitting alone upstairs, urinating in garbage cans, hands filthy as we went to school, unslept, and unkempt...Never realized how tortured we were...until
this moment, when I see it written in black and white...she kicked back to fight for us, hope her next life is more fulfilling...this one is killing her slowly, in fact she died the moment we were born...
Flowers still blossom on this very street, as nature completes its cycle without hesitation.
A new relation ships new life into her hands, babies of babies growing faster than the maybes of this life, just maybe she is happy now...its the 7 yr old that wants to see her smile and she does. If only for the moment, then lightning swells frightening the child that dwells within...
As she begins again, and I begin again, this time, I wait patiently for winter to come, and the son is cold,...as I look and see her...and she is old, and I am old...
He scolds her for her natures wrath, and takes babies from her withered hands, and with her, he stands...hopefully they can get along now, the son and moon, as has always been, and will always be...from July 'til June...a family, this family.
This soil is in turmoil and the buds grow thick with weakened stems, and it stems from what is at its root...and it drinks...as did he, many years ago, but he has changed...and he is loved, while the relation shifts from her to him...Is there not enough to go around? I think so, but what do I know I am only 7...I'm naive, I believe in true happiness and happy endings...as all things end as they begin. I am forced to wonder...and dream, of the if we, and if she...but there is only one ending to every story and time is her narrator, telling us when its time to quit...I think its time, as I sit and stare at her...she is young now, as am I...and love has no direction, or weakness...its as strong now as it has ever been, even if things appear more fragile, its her strength that will go on forever.
Poetry by TheNakedPoet
Read 185 times
Written on 2007-01-03 at 18:25
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